


one of these things is not like the others

by arysa13



Series: prompts filled (bellarke) [21]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Depending on how you look at it lmao, F/M, Humor, Smut, frat party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 02:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Bellamy claims he's an expert on boobs, and then is forced to prove it.





	one of these things is not like the others

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ragingserenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingserenity/gifts).



> I have nothing to say about this.
> 
> prompt: Bellamy has to pick out Echo’s boobs in a lineup just by feel, but he gets “stuck” on Clarke’s before he gets to hers.

They check all the upstairs bedrooms before they give up. Truth is, Bellamy is half relieved they’re all already occupied, because he’s not really in the mood for a quickie with his girlfriend at the moment anyway. But if he tells Echo that, she’ll think something is wrong and she’ll hassle him about it and then he’ll snap at her and then they’ll both just be annoyed the rest of the night instead of having a good time at the party.

He’s a little buzzed at the moment, and he kind of just wants to keep drinking, maybe get in on the game of beer pong that’s being played out in the living room. He’s kind of wishing he hadn’t brought Echo at all, except that Jasper warned him he probably wouldn’t get in unless he had at least one girl with him.

“Basement?” Echo suggests.

“Sure,” Bellamy agrees. The basement will probably be full of people anyway, and then they can give up and he can go and play beer pong.

There’s a sign sticky-taped to the basement door that reads _off-limits to guests,_ but they ignore it and go down anyway. It becomes obvious pretty soon that other people have also ignored the sign, as there’s a group of people sitting on the ratty old couches that surround the TV.

Roan King is the first to notice Bellamy and Echo’s presence, and his mouth widens into a mischievous grin. “Well, well,” he says. “If it isn’t Bellamy Panty-Dropper Blake.”

“Funny,” Bellamy says. He earned the nickname in freshman year, and it’s only the real douchebags who continue to use it.

The rest of the group turns towards Bellamy and Echo, and Bellamy mentally goes through their names in his head. Roan, obviously. Jasper and Monty, who belong to the fraternity that’s hosting the party. Murphy and Raven, who have been not so secretly hooking up lately. Roma, and her girlfriend Bree, whom Bellamy may or may not have had a threesome with last year. And Clarke Griffin, who had once referred to him as _the bane of her existence_ , but now seems to tolerate him. Maybe even like him.

Okay, so maybe the nickname is apt after all. He has slept with almost every woman in the room. Bar one. His eyes flick to Clarke and she quickly looks away.

“Bellamy!” Jasper shouts, clearly very drunk already. “You came! Come join us. Clarke, shove over so they can sit.”

“Got one of those for me?” Bellamy asks, gesturing to the beer in Jasper’s hand as he makes his way over to the couch to sit next to Clarke. Jasper leans forward and pulls a beer out of the cooler full of ice in front of him, tossing it to Bellamy just as Bellamy settles himself on the couch.

“This is where we’re hiding the good stuff,” Jasper says. “Upstairs is just watered-down punch for the plebs.”

Bellamy opens the beer and Echo drapes herself over his lap. It annoys him, but he can’t say anything, especially since there isn’t any more room for her to sit. Bree is already sitting in Roma’s lap, and both couches are squashed with people.

“What are you guys talking about?” Bellamy asks. He’s pretending to ignore the way his thigh is crushed against Clarke’s. Like he doesn’t notice the way she kind of leans towards him, instead of away from him.

“It’s honesty hour,” Raven says. “If you’re going to be here, you have to promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“Looks like I’m rubbing off on you,” Murphy smirks.

“Shut up. I can know law stuff without spending time with a wannabe lawyer. It’s called television, look it up.”

“I know what a television is.”

“Do you know what this is?” Raven asks, sticking her middle finger up at him.

“I’m sure he knows what that is _intimately_ ,” Clarke says. Bellamy glances at her. He likes the cheeky look she has on her face, the glint in her eye.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Murphy scowls.

“Honesty hour!” Jasper reminds him loudly. “Has Raven stuck her finger up your butt or not?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he mutters. Jasper hoots, and the rest of the group erupts into whistles and jeers. Raven pokes her tongue out, and Murphy is pretending to be annoyed but his smirk gives him away.

“Okay, okay!” Raven yells. “Question for all you people attracted to women. Tits or ass?”

“Ass,” Roan says immediately.

“Abstain,” Monty says. “I don’t like objectifying women.”

“We’re giving you permission to objectify us,” Bree says. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”

“Fine. Ass.”

“Knew it,” Jasper yells. “I’m more of a tits man myself.”

“Do I have to pick one?” Murphy says.

“Same, I can’t choose,” Bree agrees.

“Boobs,” Roma says. “Also, I can’t stand the word tits. Gross.”

“Clarke?” Raven prompts.

“Ass.”

“And Bellamy?”

“Boobs, definitely boobs. I’m like, the boob connoisseur.”

“Since when?” Echo scoffs. And okay, to be fair, his track record doesn’t exactly prove he’s into boobs. But he really, really is.

“He’s just trying to get rid of the nickname Panty Dropper and get a new one,” Roan says.

“Because Boob Connoisseur is so much better,” Clarke scoffs.

“What even is a boob connoisseur?” Roma asks.

“It’s someone who is an expert on boobs,” Bellamy says. “I can tell when someone has really good boobs.” He glances at Clarke’s, because, well, they’re _right there_. The little dress she has on is so low cut he can see the lace from her bra poking out. “Notice subtle differences. That kind of thing.” He’s talking absolute shit, he knows that. It’s the alcohol. At least everyone else here is as drunk or drunker than he is.

“So you think you could tell the difference between say, me and Echo, just by feeling our boobs?” Raven asks.

“Definitely.”

“Prove it.”

Bellamy stares at her, and she stares back, challenging him. “Uh, excuse me?”

“I want you to prove that you’re the boob connoisseur. We’ll blindfold you and you have to feel my boobs and Echo’s boobs and tell us who’s who. Clarke will do it too, won’t you?” 

“Um,” Clarke says, her face turning scarlet. “Yeah, okay.” Bellamy continues watching her, surprised at her decision to participate. He waits for her to look at him so he can tease her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, but she refuses to meet his eye.

“Sounds fun, I’m in,” Bree says.

“Agreed,” Roma says.

Murphy snorts. “Look at this, they’re all lining up to have Bellamy grope them. He really is the Panty Dropper.”

“This is ridiculous,” Echo says. “I don’t want to play. And I don’t want you to play either,” she says to Bellamy.

“Aw, come on, Echo, it’s just a bit of fun. Lighten up.”

“Afraid he won’t be able to tell which are yours?” Raven says.

“Obviously he will,” Echo says. “I just don’t love the idea of my boyfriend touching someone else’s boobs.”

“I’ve already touched most of these boobs anyway, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It’s just a game Echo. Seriously, lighten up. Just some good honest boob grabbing.”

“You know what? Fine. On the condition that if he gets them all right, you all have to stop calling him _Panty Dropper_.”

“Never gonna happen,” Roan mutters.

“Deal,” says Raven. “Bras off ladies! Murphy, blindfold Bellamy.”

Echo reluctantly leaves Bellamy’s lap, and then Murphy pulls Bellamy off the couch.

“Uh…” Murphy says, looking around for something to use as a blindfold. He then pulls his shirt over his head. “This will have to do. Turn around.” Bellamy obeys and Murphy stretches his shirt over Bellamy’s eyes, and the world goes dark. “Raven, I need one of those things you make a ponytail with.”

Bellamy can’t see, but he assumes Raven gives Murphy a hair tie, because then he can feel Murphy tying the shirt up.

“We’re ready,” Raven says. “Is he blindfolded?”

“Yes.” Bellamy feels Murphy spin him around. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I have no idea.”

“Good. He can’t see.”

“Okay, lead him over,” Raven says. Murphy grabs Bellamy’s arms and pulls him backwards, before stopping abruptly. Murphy lets Bellamy’s arms fall to his sides.

“Is anyone recording this?” Jasper asks.

“No recording,” Raven says, somewhere to Bellamy’s right.

“What’s the point then?” Jasper mutters.

“Are we starting?” Bellamy asks.

“Yes,” Raven says. “Okay, wait, some rules. You feel, and then you guess, but we won’t tell you if you’re right until the end. And ladies, if you start to feel uncomfortable just step out, okay?” There is no answer, and Bellamy just has to assume they’re nodding. “Now we need to change spots because Bellamy knows where my voice is. Monty, you’re in charge now.”

“Monty, why Monty?” Murphy complains.

“He’s the most responsible.”

There’s some muttering from Murphy, and the sound of people moving around, plus the music from the party upstairs thrumming faintly.

“Okay, they’re ready,” Monty says. “So I guess… go for it?”

Bellamy reaches out his hands until they land on a pair of shoulders. He pats his way down until he finds her breasts. A giggle. Based on the giggle alone, it’s not Echo, though her boobs are of a similar size. Smaller than he likes, if he’s honest. Even without the giggle, he knows it’s not Echo. Way too short to be Echo.

“Bree,” he guesses, pulling his hands away.

“Okay, next, then?” Monty says, clearly unsure about being the person in charge. Bellamy steps to the side.

“Here?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

Bellamy lifts his arms again, and he feels a pair of soft hands curl around his wrists and guide him forwards, his palms open. His pulse quickens as he makes contact, cupping her breasts. It’s already painfully obvious who he’s touching, from the way her tits overflow from his hands. Clarke. But he doesn’t say it out loud yet.

He can’t resist giving her a little squeeze, absolutely salivating over the feel of her, firm and soft and heavy. God, he doesn’t think he’s felt such a perfect pair of tits in his life. Her nipples harden under his touch, and he runs his thumbs over them. It would only take a small tug down on her dress to expose them. But then, if he can’t see them, what’s the point?

He rolls his thumbs over her nipples again, harder this time, and she whimpers. His cock jumps.

“Bellamy, I think that’s enough,” says Monty.

“I’m not sure yet,” Bellamy lies. “She’s okay, isn’t she?”

There’s a short silence, and then Monty sighs. “She’s fine.”

“Can I use my mouth?” Bellamy asks, without thinking. He’s only half joking.

“Seriously, Bellamy?” Echo huffs. “Fuck you.”

He can hear her storming away, then stomping up the stairs. His hands don’t leave Clarke’s tits.

“Uh, Bellamy? Your girlfriend is leaving,” Monty says. Bellamy sighs and pulls the blindfold off. He looks at Clarke in front of him, her face and chest all flushed. She glances down, embarrassed.

“Are you going to go after her?” Raven asks.

“If you don’t want her, I’ll have her,” Roan says. Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“I guess I should.” He looks to Clarke again, checking if she’s okay. Checking if she’ll still be here when he gets back. Clarke gives him a short nod. He’s sure no one in the room missed the exchange, but he can’t bring himself to care. After all, they already witnessed him fondle her breasts for way too long.

Bellamy heads upstairs, taking his time. Echo isn’t too hard to find, sitting on the bottom of the staircase that leads upstairs. Waiting for him.

“You knew it was Clarke,” she accuses, standing up.

“Yeah,” Bellamy admits.

“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to that ridiculous game. Let’s just go, okay? You can apologise later. And by the way, if you think I’m letting you hang out with Clarke again, you can forget it.”

Bellamy snorts out a laugh. “Letting me? Echo, for one thing, you don’t tell me what to do. And for another, you and me? We’re over.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“Look, I’ve been wanting to break up for a while, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“And you thought the best way was to feel up another woman in front of me?” Echo snarls.

Bellamy shrugs. “I guess not.”

“Fuck you, Bellamy.” He probably deserves that.

Echo shoves past him, and Bellamy just feels an overwhelming sense of relief. Someone taps him on the shoulder, and he turns to see Roan standing there.

“You and Echo are done?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” Roan smirks, then takes off in the direction Echo had gone in. Bellamy hopes they’ll be very happy together.

When Bellamy goes back down to the basement, it’s just Clarke, Raven and Murphy who are still there. Raven and Clarke are standing, having a whispered conversation, while Murphy lies on the couch, scrolling on his phone.

The floor creaks, alerting the girls to Bellamy’s presence, and they look over at him.

“Murphy, want to go and play beer pong?” Raven asks. Murphy groans as he gets up from the couch, and he and Raven go upstairs. Bellamy barely pays any attention to them. His eyes are only for Clarke. He hears the basement door shut, and he makes his way closer to Clarke.

He clears his throat. “Sorry about before. I got a bit carried away,” he says.

“No shit.”

“You’ve just got really nice boobs.” He glances at them. She hasn’t put her bra back on.

“I know,” Clarke laughs.

“You’re not mad at me then?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I think it’s pretty obvious I was enjoying myself just as much as you were. Although it was kind of awkward with everyone else around.”

“Well, uh—” Bellamy looks around the room. “There’s no one else around now.”

“What, you want to give me a review on my tits, Mr Boob Connoisseur?”

Bellamy grimaces. He’s started to sober up a little, and he’s realising how ridiculous he sounded earlier. “Forget it,” he says.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Do you actually like me? Or just my boobs?”

Bellamy stares at her, momentarily stunned by the directness of her question. “I like you,” he says.

“As a friend?”

“I don’t know, do people usually grope their friend’s tits?”

“Bellamy.”

“I like you as more than a friend.” He’s not sure why his heart is beating so hard. He’s not sure why he feels nervous. Why every second that passes without her saying something to validate his confession feels like an hour.

“In that case,” Clarke says. “To answer your earlier question, yes. You can use your mouth.”

He’s not standing close enough to be able to kiss her right away. And even if he was, he’s too surprised to actually move anyway.

“Bellamy, kiss me,” Clarke says. Bellamy comes to his senses, takes two long strides towards her, grabs her around her waist, and crushes her against his body as he kisses her. God, the way her tits feel pressed against his chest is heaven, and the way she kisses him is sending him straight to hell.

“Does this mean you like me too?” Bellamy asks between kisses.

“Uh huh,” Clarke says, pulling his mouth back to hers. Bellamy edges her backwards until she’s pressed against the back of one of the couches. He pulls his mouth away from hers, and she chases him, but he pushes her back. His eyes fall on her chest, rising and falling heavily. He brings his hands to her shoulders and slides the straps of her dress down, then tugs on her dress to pull her nipples free.

“Fucking hell,” Bellamy breathes, drinking her in. He cups her in his hands again, thumbing her nipples until they’re hard and pointed. He rolls one between his thumb and finger. He meets Clarke’s eyes for a moment, checking to make sure this is still okay. “You like that?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy drops his hands to her waist, then lowers his mouth to the soft flesh of her breast, kissing her gently there. Clarke’s hands tangle into his hair. He drags his mouth down her breast to her nipple, circling it with his tongue, then sucking it into his mouth. Clarke lets out a soft gasp. Bellamy brings his hand to her right breast, playing with her nipple with his fingers, while he sucks and licks at the other one.

“Oh my god, Bellamy,” Clarke says. She squirms under his touch, and her breathing grows shallower. One of her hands leaves his hair, and Bellamy stops for a moment to watch her pull her dress up and slip her hand into her panties. “Don’t stop,” Clarke complains. Bellamy watches her fingers move under the blue cotton. He doesn’t want to stop, but he also really wants to watch her finger herself. And he also wants to be the one fingering her.

“Let me do that,” he says, and Clarke lets him pull her hand from her panties and replace it with his own.

“Fuck, you’re wet.” He finds her clit with his thumb and presses down, making her cry out.

“Bellamy,” she whines. “I don’t want to stand up anymore.”  

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He pulls back, disliking being separated from her immensely, even if only for a few moments. They round the couch, and Bellamy doesn’t even care how old and dirty it is, he just knows he has to fuck Clarke on it. Clarke pulls her dress the rest of the way, and Bellamy takes his shirt off, feeling overdressed now.

Clarke pushes Bellamy down onto the couch, then follows him down, straddling him, positioning herself so that his erection presses against her cunt. He’s absolutely throbbing for her. She drags her slit up and down, humping his hard cock through her panties and his jeans. Bellamy watches her tits jiggle with every movement, as the throbbing of his cock grows more and more unbearable.

“You gonna let me fuck you, Clarke?” Bellamy whispers.

“Yes,” Clarke moans. “I’ve wanted you to for so long.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy says, excited.

“Do you have a condom?”

Bellamy rifles through his pocket and pulls out the condom Echo gave him earlier. So she was good for something after all.

Clarke rolls off Bellamy’s lap, taking the condom from him while he undoes his jeans, then sheds them hurriedly, along with his boxers. Bellamy watches as Clarke tears the condom wrapper open, her hands shaking. She tosses away the wrapper, then rolls the condom on, while Bellamy tries to make it seem like no big deal that she’s touching his cock.

“God, I can’t believe I’m going to fuck someone with the nickname _Panty Dropper_ ,” Clarke says, pretending to be disgusted.

“Yet your panties are not dropped yet,” Bellamy points out. Clarke smirks at him, then stand up and hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and drags them down her thighs. “You want to be on top?” Bellamy asks. Clarke bites her lip and shakes her head. She sinks onto the couch on her knees beside him, facing him.

“Fuck me,” she says.

“Okay,” Bellamy laughs. He brushes her hair from her face and then he kisses her. Clarke sinks down onto her thighs, then shifts so she can lie down. Bellamy follows her down, kissing her, fingers ghosting over her skin at her waist. He positions his cock at her entrance, then pushes into her.

She moans as she takes him inside her cunt, spreading her legs wider to accommodate him. Bellamy can’t help but stare at her tits as he fucks her, watching them bounce with each thrust.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy pants. “I don’t know how long I can last. You feel so fucking good.”

“Bell,” she whines. “I need to come.”

“I know, baby. I know. You gotta play with your clit. I’m sorry.” It’s fucking embarrassing that he can’t last longer, but with her tits looking like that, and her pussy feeling like it does, it’s a miracle he hasn’t come already. Clarke fingers her clit until she comes, seconds before he does. She’s still coming when his own orgasm hits, and his groan joins hers.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, pulling out of her. “Shit. I swear next time I’ll be better.”

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

“God, please tell me there’ll be a next time. I need to redeem myself.”

Clarke laughs, sitting up to kiss him. “You were pretty good,” she murmurs.

“Pretty good?” Bellamy huffs. “You think I got the nickname Panty Dropper because I was _pretty good_? Clarke, I’m usually fucking amazing.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’m better than any other girl you’ve been with?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Clarke eyes him, amused. “Okay. You can have a second chance. But you have to take me on a date first.”

Bellamy grins. “Okay. You sure you want to go out with Bellamy _Panty Dropper_ Blake?”

“It’s Boob Connoisseur now. Sorry you’ll never have a good nickname.”

“Doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well, but I guess I can live with it.”

 

 


End file.
